


A Man Named Freedom

by cfarvid



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24100438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cfarvid/pseuds/cfarvid
Summary: Revas Mahariel has had his world shaken completely to its core. He had his heart broken, lost his best friend, and was forced to become a Grey Warden all in the span of a week. He does his best to take it in stride and fight to save Ferelden.Just as he's beginning to find something remotely resembling stability in his new life, an all-too-attractive assassin shows up and leaves him with no choice but to follow wherever he leads.
Relationships: Alistair & Warden (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai/Male Mahariel, Zevran Arainai/Male Warden
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue

Revas opened his eyes and immediately regretted doing so. The sunlight bleeding through the trees was an unbearable assault that worsened the throbbing ache in his skull. He groaned and found that even his throat protested with the effort. The weariness in his very bones kept him lying wherever he was. Something outside of his body shifted him, made some garbled sound he couldn't recognize. A blur of shape passed over him.

_This is it, isn't it?_

His mind went blank.

When he woke again, the sunlight burned, but only in the way that comes with waking after a deep rest. His limbs were heavy, but at least he could move them. When he opened his mouth, the sounds that came out didn’t strain his throat. He managed to get to his feet and rub his eyes. He took a few hesitant steps forward. His legs carried his weight without faltering. Time seemed to be moving strangely, but at least it was moving.

That he’d been unconscious for two days astounded him. The soreness in his body lent credence to that claim, but it seemed difficult to believe. How could it have been two days since he went hunting and found that damned cave with --

 _Tamlen_.

The thought of his best friend still being out there, suffering with worse pains than he was suffering with, filled him with dread and panic. He was eager to get back to the cave and search for him. Fenarel and Merril joined him on the search, and he was all too happy to let them come along.

The path there, the walk through the ruin itself, was too familiar. It set Revas on edge. It sparked a chill that ran down his spine, an icy touch that brushed over each bone that worsened with every step he took. The longer they searched, the thicker the ice grew.

Tamlen was gone.

He didn’t want to face it. He didn’t want to accept that. Somewhere in his heart he knew it couldn’t be true. Yet, Duncan -a _Grey Warden_ \- insisted it was. The sickness that had nearly killed Revas had surely taken Tamlen by now.

He was hardly given time to grieve.

“What about my clan? What about my people?” he demanded of Duncan. He swept his arms out as he spoke to gesture to them. He had never been away from them. They were his family. They were everything he had. What Duncan was asking of him was too much to bear. He had just lost his best friend and now he was to lose everything else along with him?

Duncan fed him some meaningless apology and claimed it was the only way to save his life. Revas was nearly tempted to say he shouldn’t bother. But Keeper Marethari insisted he go and further splintered what remained of Revas’s heart. It was one thing coming from Duncan, but for Keeper to tell him to leave?

Revas couldn’t reconcile the words with his feelings. These people were his home, and now he was being pushed out of it as if that meant nothing. As if _he_ meant nothing. Part of him knew and understood that they only wanted what was best for him; if living meant living without them, that’s what they would choose, even if Revas protested, even if he resisted the whole way. That didn’t make it easier.

Revas felt nothing but a burning hatred and disgust toward Duncan as he allowed Revas enough time to say goodbye. That he had to be given permission to mourn his best friend twisted something inside him. Revas had never felt so much anger before.

The anger shifted when Paivel began to recite the words passed down through their people. Sadness overwhelmed him alongside pain and an aching loneliness. Revas stood with his arms around himself and listened to the ancient rite beside the fire.

It had hardly been a few days.

They should never have gone on that hunt.

Tamlen had only wanted to get Revas away from his problems and cheer him up.

Revas hugged himself tighter and turned away to let Duncan lead him away from the camp. The anger renewed itself to blend with the myriad of other emotions warring for his attention. He hardly processed a thing Duncan told him.

Revas had never hated before. Not even when his heart had been broken or his trust betrayed. He had been angry and hurt his share of times, but he’d never hated anyone.

Not until now.He’d been yanked away from the only life he knew by a man, a _human_ , that he didn’t know how to trust. Trust, he found, was becoming harder and harder to give. And now? Without his best friend to encourage him? Trust was nearly impossible. But hate - hate was not.


	2. Chance, Fate, or a Man for Hire

Revas yawned and stretched as the group walked. They were heading to Redcliffe Village and had left before sunrise. Being up and about so early was nothing new to him, but he could have used a bit more sleep. It was hard to get enough rest when plagued by nightmares of demons and darkspawn. There wasn't much to be done about it though, so he carried on and insisted he was fine.

It was hard not to be awake and aware when Alistair and Morrigan hadn't stopped arguing since they left. He exchanged a look with Wynne every time one of them started up again. It was amusing in its own right, of course. Alistair was easy to tease and more often than not was a good sport about it. Morrigan was witty and had no difficulty speaking her mind. The conversations between them were their own form of entertainment when they didn't go too far. Revas did find himself siding with Alistair in most cases either way. In the weeks since their joining, the two had bonded quickly.

Alistair had called him touchy at first. Revas didn't want to share much about himself and found it difficult to let Alistair in. The way he idolized Duncan didn't help. But after Ostagar and the familiarity he saw when Alistair realized Duncan was gone, he softened toward him. He understood that pain. It had served to bridge the gap between them.

Now, it was easy to talk and joke with Alistair as if he'd known him for years. He supposed their situation lent itself to that sort of thing. Even Morrigan -whom Revas rarely saw eye-to-eye with- became someone he enjoyed being around. More so was Wynne, who was nearly on par with Alistair in terms of the fondness Revas held. Leliana had won her own degree of respect and admiration, and Revas certainly respected Sten from a distance.

It was strange but pleasant all the same that this very mismatched group had wiggled their way into his affections. If he thought about it long enough, he'd realize that they had, in a way, filled the hole that had been abruptly ripped into his chest. They were a comfort he hadn't realized he needed. Part of him was feeling like himself again.

Part of him felt very much like a Grey Warden. He felt responsible for aiding everyone that asked it of him more than he had before. So, when a woman approached them for help partway through their journey to the village, he obliged without hesitation.

He realized too late that they'd walked into an ambush. He kicked himself for being so lost in thought; if he hadn't been so distracted, he might have realized sooner what was going on. He might not have had his trust so quickly betrayed, his blindness taken advantage of.

Morrigan cried out when an arrow skimmed her arm. Guilt racked Revas as he reached out to her. As soon as she nodded and insisted she was all right, his guilt was buried beneath anger. He turned on his heel and pulled the blades from his back. They sunk into the nearest body with a disgusting, slick noise.

It wasn't their first fight together and they knew it was far from their last. They had begun to work well as a team, moving almost in sync and covering each other easily. A quick shout was all that was needed to keep everyone on the same page if ever they started to stray.

The same, Revas realized, could not be said of their opponents. They worked well enough on their own, but they weren't a team. Their apparent leader didn't even seem to be trying. He was reckless. Careless. If Revas had to describe it, he would say that his heart wasn't in the fight in the least. That made it all the easier to take him down.

He hadn't gotten a good look at the man until now, with the tip of a blade under his chin. He grinned, something between mania and panic, and looked up at Revas.

His heart skipped a beat.

It was ridiculous that it did. The man had just tried to kill them. But that didn't detract from how attractive he was at all. His sandy blond hair fell beautifully around his face, and his eyes shone with something wild and tempting.

Revas tightened his grip on his dagger, used it to tilt the man's head up just so, and stared him down as he caught his breath. The elf at his feet was supposed to be an assassin, and he'd failed to kill them with even a full team behind him. Something about the situation didn't sit right with him. Something about the look on his face didn't match the position he was in. Revas moved quickly, the hilt of his dagger hitting the man’s temple hard enough to knock him onto his back and into unconsciousness.

"Tie him up," Revas said.

"What?"

"Alistair, tie him up."

Alistair hesitated before doing what he was told. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“We’re going to talk to him.”

They learned his name was Zevran Arainai and he was hired to kill the remaining Grey Wardens. And when he offered to pledge himself to their service -to Revas’s- in exchange for his life?

* * *

“Tell me you’re joking,” Alistair said for what had to be the hundredth time since they’d gotten to Redcliffe. “ _Please_ , by the Maker, tell me you’re joking.”

“If I say it again, will you believe it this time?” Revas said, rubbing his temples.

“As much as I’d believe Rabbit is made of cheese.”

“Please do not turn the dog into fondue.”

“What were you _thinking?"_

Revas sighed, yet again, and shrugged. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. The man had been sent to take his life and now he was examining the empty shop as Revas watched. He could come up with any number of explanations: he wanted information from him; he felt that his skills as an assassin -albeit in question at this point- were useful; they knew he wasn’t one to unnecessarily take a life and he’d felt merciful.

When it came down to it, the truth was that Zevran intrigued him. If he had wanted them dead, if he had really been planning to do what he was hired for, surely he could have killed them. What Revas wanted to know was why he didn’t. He was morbidly curious why he was still alive. Why Zevran had looked so wildly pleased with his own failure. He couldn’t get those answers from a dead man and he couldn’t get them from a man he couldn’t find.

“I believe he was thinking he could not waste the chance to keep such a pretty face around,” Zevran said, turning to them with a wink.

Well. There was that, too.

“Yes, he can hear you, you know. Might I suggest speaking quietly if you would like to question the presence of an assassin?”

Alistair gave Revas a look, something akin to “Is he serious?” he imagined, and Revas shrugged once more.

“He has a point.”

“Nope. No, thank you. If you need me, I will be outside.”

“And leave the dear warden here unattended and at my mercy?”

Any protest he might have had fell silent. Alistair rolled his eyes and stood just slightly closer to Revas.

Revas couldn’t stop the small smile that spread on his face. “Zevran, stop teasing him.”

Zevran laughed and leaned against the wall, too casual and too comfortable. Revas looked him over briefly before his smile grew and he shook his head. If there was anything he’d learned about Zevran in the few days he’d been with them, it was that he always seemed at ease. It was another thing that intrigued him about the man. How he could be so relaxed even knowing that Revas could change his mind at any moment was beyond him. At the same time, he supposed the trust had to be mutual. Revas was taking him at his word that they would remain safe.

And though it had been a few days, Alistair continued to question Revas. He couldn't blame him. Really, he would've been more concerned if Alistair hadn't questioned it. That didn't make it any less frustrating. Revas had made his choice and wasn't likely to change his mind. Alistair would surely stop asking sooner or later. He hoped so anyways. Revas considered himself a patient man, but that didn't mean his patience was endless.

It was on their way out of the village that evening when Zevran fell into step with Revas. He could feel Alistair watching and heard his conversation with Wynne go quiet. He did appreciate the attentiveness; knowing they had his back was a greater comfort than he admitted.

He glanced at Zevran and arched a brow, prompting him to say whatever was on his mind.

"Revas, you are Dalish, yes?"

Revas snorted. "Orlesian, actually."

"Oh, yes. A foolish mistake on my part. They are so similar I confused the two."

Revas rolled his eyes despite his smile. "Yes, I'm Dalish. Why do you ask?"

"I admit I know very little of your people. I am quite curious about you. What is life like moving from place to place in the wilderness? Do you not find it dull?"

Revas shrugged. "It's all I knew before becoming a Grey Warden. I guess it was boring sometimes, but I imagine even the city isn't always interesting."

"A fair enough point, I suppose. I cannot help but wonder, though, how it must be to live with only the same people no matter where you go. One must not be able to keep secrets or indulge themselves without everyone knowing living like that."

Revas's smile shrank just slightly, morphing into something softer and more nostalgic as he considered that. It was something he hadn't thought about before; cities must be far more anonymous than he realized.

"You'd be surprised. Everyone has secrets."

Zevran gasped too dramatically and threw a hand over his chest. "Even you, Revas?"

Revas looked at him, studied the way his eyes sparkled with mischief - or maybe just with the evening sun. His grin was playful, an invitation to misbehave and see where he could lead him. Revas wondered if it would be worth it to follow.

"That depends. Are you planning on trying to find them out?"

Zevran stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop in his tracks. He reached up to toy with Revas's hair without hesitation. Revas found himself holding his breath. Alistair would give him shit for it later, rant about how he'd startled them like that. But for that second, his attention was focused solely on Zevran and his cool, easy confidence.

"Oh, certainly. I should like to learn every last one."

Revas watched, almost dizzy, as Zevran sauntered ahead. He took a breath and decided to follow.


	3. Walls

Revas _hated_ the Deep Roads. He grew up in the forests, in open fields, where only clouds ever hid the sky from him. Not being able to see it was disorienting. Being so far underground felt wrong. Orzammar had filled him with discomfort as it was. This was different and worse and Revas _hated_ it. Every time he thought the Deep Roads had shown him their worst, they proved him wrong.

Darkspawn surrounded them on every side and overwhelmed Revas's senses. He could feel them everywhere, a constant thrumming under his skin, pins and needles digging at his skull. That awful sound that rang relentlessly in his ears when they were near. And _Creators_ that smell. Fighting them on the surface was one thing, but here in the dark tunnels so far from the sky was entirely different.

Revas kicked a hurlock as hard as he could manage before sinking one of his blades into its chest. It collapsed in front of him with a slick thud. He scowled at the sound and turned on his heel to continue fighting back the horde. Before he could slash at the next of his enemies, a deep rumbling rolled through the room. Revas looked up in time to see the walls beginning to break apart. He stumbled back, struggling to turn and run with the genlock on his heels.

He heard someone call his name before a weight against him knocked him to the ground. In the next moment, the thundering of stone falling to the ground rang in his ears. He coughed up dust as he tried to sit up. Zevran pulled away from him and waved his hand to clear the air in front of him.

"That was far too close," he said as he began dusting himself off.

_Ah_ , so it had been him that had tackled him out of the way.

"Thank you, Zev. I owe you one."

"Nonsense." Zevran stood and held his hand out. "Think nothing of it."

Revas took his hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. He looked around and panic began to set in. The collapse had wiped out the group of darkspawn they'd been fighting, luckily, but he couldn't see the others anywhere. His heart began to race as he called out to them.

When Alistair finally called back, Revas let out a sigh of relief.

"Are you all right? Where are you?"

"We're fine. It looks like we're on the other side of this brand new wall. I guess the darkspawn decided to do some renovations."

He shook his head, but at least if Alistair was joking, they were in one piece. "Well, it looks like you're deeper in the thaig than we are. Keep going and we'll find another way to meet you."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? We hardly managed all those things together."

"You're free to stay there, if you want, but I wouldn't trust the stability of these walls anymore."

"Yeah, alright. Fair enough. Stay safe, Revas."

"You, too."

Their footsteps echoed through the space as Alistair and Wynne headed deeper. Revas put his hands on his hips and studied the wall that was now in front of him. There was no way to get over the top of it; the rubble it had left would certainly be easy enough to climb, but the few gaps were far too small to squeeze through. They had barely been enough for them to hear Alistair through. If they had the means, they could blast through it, but neither of them were mages and he hadn't seen any explosives on the way in. They'd have to find another way around.

Revas mapped out the tunnels they'd been through in his mind as best as he could. As far as he could tell, there were one or two alternate paths they could use if they were careful. He hoped he had remembered them correctly.

"Do you think the darkspawn did that?"

Revas turned to Zevran and shook his head. "They aren't organized enough for something like that. The dwarves built this place ages ago. It makes sense that they would start falling apart eventually without some upkeep. I'm sure having an archdemon and another Blight rumbling around doesn't help, though."

"Pretty _and_ smart. Tell me, friend, how you are not being courted by the fairest people in Ferelden."

Revas turned again and started heading back down the tunnel, ignoring the warmth in his cheeks the compliment stoked. He only managed a few steps before pain shot through his leg and made him stumble. He looked down to see a cut across his thigh, sliced cleanly through the thinnest part of his armor.

"Shit."

Revas started to search through his things, hoping he'd kept something that could help, only to hear the sound of fabric tearing. Zevran knelt in front of him with a strip of his tunic in his hands.

"Alistair is rather lucky he has Wynne on his side." Zevran wrapped the fabric tightly around Revas's leg, and he tried not to think about the way the touch sent a shock through his spine. "You will have to make do with my limited medical talents."

"Thanks again. It looks like we only have a few more poultices, so I'd rather use them only if we really need to."

Zevran looked up at him and Revas's heart stuttered. He made a habit of trying not to think about how attractive Zevran was, but _damn_ he made that difficult at times. Especially seeing him kneeling in front of him with such a knowing grin on his lips. Revas took a step back and cleared his throat.

"We should get going. We have to double back a fair ways."

Zevran stood and, for a moment, looked concerned. "Will you be able to walk well enough?"

Revas nodded and the worry in Zevran's eyes quickly faded.

"Then lead the way," Zevran said, gesturing to the tunnel.

Thankfully, Revas's mental map was mostly as accurate as they needed it to be. They made a wrong turn once or twice, but otherwise followed the tunnels back the way they'd come. Since they'd cleared out the darkspawn on their way in, Revas's limp was the worst of their problems. He'd certainly sustained worse injuries before. His body was covered in the scars to prove it. He knew there were bigger things to worry about, though, so he pushed on.

Aside from a few moments when he dashed ahead, slipping in and out of shadows to scout, Zevran walked in step with him. On the rare occasion that Revas's injury caused him to falter, Zevran tensed. It was a strange thing to find comforting: that the man sent to kill him was now trying to keep him on his feet. He wouldn't say that he didn't appreciate the turn of events, though. Zevran was interesting company to keep.

And then he realized how little of Zevran he knew. For all the stories he'd shared, the man was something of a mystery to him. He could almost hear Alistair telling him not to ask, but Revas had always been a curious person. More than that, though, Revas simply wanted to _know_ him. It was a feeling that Revas was no longer used to. Alistair had won him over with his charm and humor, but he'd had the advantage of going through the Joining with him. Wynne was kind and gentle enough that Revas had hardly noticed her getting past his walls.

Zevran, though… Revas _wanted_ to let him in without questioning it.

He wasn't sure what that meant, really. In the few months that had passed since he left his clan, Revas had recognized a change in himself. At first, it was the fact that he spent so much time and energy pushing people away and refusing to let them in. The choice to do that had been deliberate. Between all of the things that had led him to this point, he hadn't wanted to trust. The idea left him feeling too vulnerable. Afraid.

With a little time and work, a handful of people had earned his loyalty and trust. But Zevran? All he'd had to do was suggest Revas spare him and something in him shifted. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he _wanted_ to get close to someone, and he _wanted_ to get close to Zevran.

Thinking about it was driving him mad, slowly and easily. The idea of letting Zevran earn his trust made his stomach flip, but he couldn't say whether or not it was a problem. He didn't think he wanted it to be. That, more than anything, scared him.

He looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Zevran's attention was on the road ahead, eyes scanning every corner and shadow they passed. He walked tall, holding himself with a confidence that couldn't be questioned. Revas watched him a moment, and looked away before Zevran could catch him.

"Tell me about Antiva."

Zevran made a noise of surprise before laughing. "Now? Here?"

Revas shrugged. "Why not?"

"What more can I tell you? Really, it is a country you must see for yourself."

"Then tell me more about you."

Zevran hummed thoughtfully. "What would you like to know?"

"Anything."

"Anything? You are certainly quite more adventurous than I expected."

Revas rolled his eyes but didn't bother trying to hide his smile. "How about you tell me about some of _your_ adventures? You must have had plenty."

"Certainly."

Zevran began sharing tales of jobs he worked and Revas listened intently, hanging on every word. Zevran could weave a tale well. At least, well enough that Revas was distracted from the pain in his leg. He was more than happy to let Zevran carry the conversation, only chiming in to ask another question or share his thoughts when Zevran finished a story.

For a little while, it didn't feel like they were trying to find their way through an ancient dwarven city. It didn't feel like much of anything but a friendly conversation.

That was until Zevran asked, "Why not tell me a little about yourself? It is not fair if I am the only one talking about himself, is it?"

Revas chuckled nervously, realizing that his earlier thoughts about letting Zevran in were now coming back to haunt him. He wanted to, but could he?

"What do you want to know?"

His heart was hammering in his chest, and he could feel his pulse drumming through the cut in his leg. He grit his teeth and tried to bear it as best as he could without letting on that it hurt. He looked over at Zevran, who looked as relaxed and nonchalant as ever.

"I can't imagine you have had many adventures, have you?"

Revas snorted.

"Oh? _Have_ you? What sort of trouble have you gotten into, dear warden?"

Revas scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. "Nothing like you have."

"I should think not! But surely you have some sort of story to tell?"

Revas thought for a long moment before chuckling softly, his heart still too loud as he started toying with a loose string on his armor. "Tamlen was more of a troublemaker than I ever was. He was too impulsive for his own good. Which, if you asked him, would be hilarious coming from me."

"I cannot believe for a moment you were ever impulsive enough to do anything interesting."

Revas made a face that seemed to say everything judging by Zevran's amazed laugh. "I have my moments. They were worse when I was growing up, but I have been known to be… well, Tamlen used to say I was a disaster. And _I_ was the level-headed one! Most of the time anyways."

"I assume your story is one of the times you weren't?"

Revas took a deep breath, steeling himself. It was a ridiculous story. Just something he'd done as a child. But some part of sharing it with Zevran felt like being exposed. There was no secret he was sharing or weakness he was showing, but, well, there it was again. It was his confusing, unnerving desire to let Zevran know him too.

"Exactly. I was… thirteen? Fourteen? Old enough to know I was being stupid. Old enough to know better. It was all his idea, and I will never change my story on that." Revas paused to collect himself through his laughter. "Anyway, we were a couple of dumb kids. We had finished our chores for the day, and we had gotten bored. We were sitting just outside of camp, skipping rocks or something, when Tamlen says, 'Re, have you ever ridden a halla?'

"Of course I hadn't. Nobody really rides them in the clan, and they were stubborn enough to only listen to the tender. But Tamlen knew I'm too competitive for my own good and he decided to challenge me: whoever stayed on a halla the longest won. I still have the scar from the thing kicking me. I made it halfway through camp, screaming the whole time, before Keeper stopped us from causing any more destruction."

Zevran looked mildly impressed. "And? Who won?"

Revas laughed and shrugged. "I did, but he would have told you otherwise. We never got an official judgment."

Zevran tsked and shook his head. "What a shame. In any case, I am surprised at that. I never would have expected something like that of you."

"I told you: I have my moments. Tamlen just knew how to get to me." His voice was wistful, soft then. "He was a good friend."

"Perhaps you shall see him again, yes? I cannot imagine you will never see your clan after this… end of the world business."

Revas pressed his lips together and began to fall behind. Zevran looked over his shoulder with a raised brow.

"I can't. He… Tamlen died. The taint. We were both infected and it was my fault."

"Oh. Could he not become a warden as well? That was why you became one, was it not?"

"We never found his body."

"I see. Perhaps he is--"

"No. He's dead. I'm not entertaining the idea that he lived. I couldn't imagine his suffering."

Zevran nodded. Revas stiffened, not sure what to say or do with the thought of his once best friend lingering between them. Tamlen was part of so much of his life before. How could he talk about anything without his failure to protect him coming up? And the parts of his life that didn't involve Tamlen were laced with feelings he wasn't sure he could confront.

He wanted to let Zevran in, but he wasn't sure he could do that without realizing just how much of himself he'd lost, how much of him had become someone he didn't recognize. The part of him that was wrapped up in Tamlen had been twisted until it became a Grey Warden, a part just as large and important to Revas's remaining sense of self.

They continued walking in silence until finally, to their relief, they found Alistair and Wynne. Alistair lit up when he saw them, then looked concerned when he saw the blood-stained fabric tied around Revas's thigh.

"Maker, are you all right?" he asked, casting a glance at Zevran. It was an accusation, a subtle question for Revas.

Revas nodded. "It was one of the darkspawn before we got separated. Zevran pushed me out of the way of the rocks to begin with, and then bandaged my leg. Wynne, could you take a look?"

"Of course. Let me see."

Revas sat down and untied the makeshift bandage, letting Wynne soothe and heal it with her magic. It was deeper than he thought, but nothing she couldn't fix. While she worked, he gave Alistair a pointed look. Alistair sighed and shrugged, his apparent acceptance that Zevran wasn't about to kill them after all. Revas smiled at him, earning an annoyed scoff, before looking at Zevran again.

When Zevran met his eye, his smile softened. An apology - not just for Alistair's distrust, but for their earlier conversation and the note it had ended on.

Zevran raised a brow and smirked back; all was forgiven.


End file.
